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Somewhere in the blur of hotels, shuttling between car to bus to car to plane, the tour has already melded together in his brain. They’re hungover, exhausted, forgetting all their on-the-road-wellness tricks and there’s still several weeks to go.
Ashton blames it on being out of practice. Luke thinks they’re still toeing the line of self-destruction.
Calum, though, has clearly used the first few days of tour to ponder big, life questions. Questions that will put the world to rights. Solve hunger and bring about peace. Parse out the things that weigh on their minds and are clearly keeping them from attaining chart domination:
“How do you guys fuck on the road?”
“What?” Ashton asks around a spoon. He feels rough as fuck and cereal won’t cut it but it’s all they’ve got until the bus edges into Milan.
Michael, of all people, lifts his head from where it’s buried in his Switch. “Dude.”
“No,” Calum attempts to laugh it off and Ashton sort of enjoys the way his face has started to flush. “I mean --”
They’re lucky that Luke isn’t here. He’d be doing that awkward, hysterical laugh he’s grown attached to when he doesn’t know what to do or how to move his facial expression. He’d likely be tipping onto the sofa beside Calum, all gangly limbs, to try and somehow both distract and divert the conversation whilst making it look like he’s in on the joke.
It’s a skill. Unfortunately, he’s rammed his mile long legs into a bunk and can’t get out. (Or is still as horrendously hungover as the rest of them and being smart in sleeping it off).
“What do you mean, Cal?” Ashton asks, quirking an eyebrow because it’s nice to see him getting so flustered. “Do you need a reminder of the birds and the bees?”
Calum laughs. “Okay. I mean what I said. Where do you get up to your freaky shit when we’re on the road?”
“No freaky shit on the road,” Michael chips in but he’s gone back to his game and Ashton can tell he’s not that bothered.
It jars a bit -- freaky shit -- just with the edge of judgement or shame that Ashton is trying hard not to internalise. It had been an adjustment -- firstly trying to figure out his role in it, admitting how much he liked it, how much he liked to see Luke on the other end of it. It was a whole other thing to grapple with admitting it to other people.
And as for the freaky shit in question, Michael doesn’t even know the half of it.
“There’s plenty of ways to get creative,” Ashton murmurs, a residual heat like Pavlov’s cat or whatever the fuck the saying is igniting in his belly.
Calum’s gaze holds the same heat and that’s the thing that catches Ashton’s breath in his chest. He’s into it. He’s asking because he finds it hot and not because he’s after some cheap joke.
After Calum had found out, Ashton had been worried their friendship would be irreplaceably changed. It was a pleasant surprise when Calum treated them with such care, especially once he realised that it wasn’t some weird fling. It’s been several months and Ashton has to admit that his qualms over the other boys knowing about Ashton-and-Luke -- knowing everything about Ashton-and-Luke -- have been unfounded.
It’s what makes him push it just a step further and say: “Wanna find out for yourself?”
Michael snorts, (still paying attention then), but Calum’s gaze darkens, his mouth twisting in that pouty way that Ashton sometimes thinks about just before he falls asleep.
“Okay,” Calum murmurs, voice gone deep and rough. “Why not.”
*
They’re in Milan for a few days after the show, squeezing in a few radio shows and an acoustic set. It means they have a hotel and Ashton can’t lie and say he hasn’t been thinking about having the opportunity to get Luke spread out and under him properly since they’ve hit the road.
He has a strange attachment to their times on the bus and actually enjoys it most of the time. The bunks have a rhythmic quality to them that helps lull him to sleep after a hectic show and some of their wildest banding moments have been on them -- cooped up 24/7 on the tour with 1D, home away from home on their first loop of the US, the slapdash feel of adventure he unconsciously links with being nineteen and the feel of the world just beyond your fingertips.
It’s tinged with more anxiety this time -- the longer hangovers, the strange self-consciousness of going on the road after such a long time. The tiny venues are exhilarating but how can they ramp up from here, how can they make it work again with the new sound, how does it become sustainable, runs like a broken record in the back of his mind constantly.
Luke’s feeling it too. Ashton can just tell now, can catch the twitch in his eyebrow, the way he looks visibly sick, shaking out of his skin when he gets caught in his thoughts staring out the window. It’s a minute change in their relationship but feels earth-shifting too -- he’s always been close enough to understand his best friend but there’s also that final marker of intimacy, as if he’s just zoomed in a fraction and hit auto-focus.
But it also means he gets this:
“Can’t wait to fuck you,” Ashton murmurs into Luke’s ear as they shuffle into the lift. Despite the fancy hotel -- 5 star, thank you Ben -- the elevator is tiny so they’ve been going up in shifts. Luke huffs out a laugh, just edging into a moan and they stagger together, a suitcase rolling into the wall as Ashton gets his arms around Luke’s waist and feels him up through his jacket.
Luke smells of cigarette smoke and faintly of stale tequila, the clammy scent of the bus bunks and sleep and hairspray and leather. It’s strangely comforting, makes Ashton recognise this as Tour and Road, hungry for a different type of home comfort.
He nudges him into the corner of the lift, the floor jostling under their weight, nose behind his ear where Luke’s growing his hair in again. Kisses him, feels the heat of his scalp before it gives into the soft skin of his neck.
“Fuck --” Luke does moan then, his hand coming up to grip at where Ashton’s hand is flat against his chest. He pushes it up, Ashton’s fingers pressing into the ridge of his collarbone, the hot skin of Luke’s bare chest against his palm.
In the mirror at the back of the lift, Ashton watches as Luke’s eyes flutter shut. He looks gorgeous like this, his jaw sharp against the cut of his hair, the way he has a bit of stubble growing in. His mouth drops open, the wet gleam of his lip. Ashton can’t wait to kiss him, wants his mouth on him right now. Luke shifts his weight, pushes his ass into Ashton’s front and it’s exhilarating, doing it in public like this, even if the lobby is all their team and have seen it a hundred times before.
There’s hardly anything to hide really -- the four of them have been all over each other from the day they officially became a band. Born out of their childish Saturday afternoon practices that devolved into lying about in Michael’s granny flat drinking whatever they could get their hands on or an hour squeezed into the week after Calum and Luke got out of school and before Ash had to go and work. The easy way they slotted together in London that first, freezing winter. The four of them moulding together into a new thing altogether the past year and a half as they suddenly grew up and faced the world properly again.
But Luke likes to keep it quiet and Ash does too -- the extent of it, the complexity of what they get up together, just the two of them.
Still. It’s nice when Luke rolls his body obviously into Ashton’s front, the heat and weight of his hip under Ashton’s palm as they grind together right there in the pale light of the lift. Luke lets out a little sound but it makes them both look up, Luke’s mouth dropping open, wet and red, eyes wide in the mirror.
And Ashton’s distracted by how the doors are sliding shut and how, look, there’s Calum in the narrow gap, watching the entire thing.
*
“So,” Ashton starts once Luke has flopped down beside him, his eyelids drooping and his cheeks so fucking pink that Ashton has the urge to lick them. Fucking when they’re this hungover is dangerous when they have a show later -- the urge to just crawl together and sleep it all off is nearly overwhelming.
“Hmm?” Luke hums, pushing his face into the dip between the two pillows. Somewhere deep down, Ashton tucks this away as endearing and it feels nearly a shame to wreck this sweet, sweaty, post-fuck quiet.
“How d’you feel letting Calum watch us get freaky?”
He has to twist it into a joke of sorts to combat how tight his throat is, the sudden nervousness of contemplating this, of asking Luke this.
Luke’s forehead crumples into a frown and Ashton nearly loses it down between the pillows but he hears a muffled: “how freaky are you talking?”
*
The show that night is electric. Ashton still feels the vibrations of the bass in his bones. The smaller shows mean that Ashton can see the expression on the crowd’s faces, can hear every single voice, can feel the moving, roiling heat of them.
They’re in no real rush tonight and meant to be heading out but Ashton can feel the way that Luke is staring at him across the room, can feel the heat of it. The last half of the show had been ramped up, Ashton staring across the stage as Luke and Calum sang at each other, messed with each other, nearly flirting in such an overperformative way that looked purposeful out there in the open.
Calum had been jacked up, bouncing over to Ash’s kit with the way the bass reverberates through his chest and out down his arms. Calum pulls him close in the hug at the end, keeps a palm on the sweaty back of his shirt as they stumble off stage and follow the labyrinth of hallways to the dressing room.
Ashton always finds these moments hard -- it’s empty back here, just the four of them, the noise of the crowd already muffled, the dull ring of it in his ears and how he’s usually still out of breath.
It’s like a dream space. They spend so much time in their dressing rooms that it never feels quite real afterwards, the adrenaline and the high from the stage, not equipped for the come down. It’s their stuff -- the trunk of clothes they’ve squashed everyone’s wardrobe into for this smaller tour only, the truncated rider, the detritus of dinner that they all picked at but never finish. It’s the absence of Nickleback, of the hyping up that Ashton finds jarring with the new need to come down.
Calum’s turning towards him, his hand still on Ashton’s hip and it’s somehow easy to just funnel all that adrenaline and energy and buzzing electricity into his body instead and kiss him.
It’s only when Calum starts to kiss back that he realises what he’s doing, that he’s never done this before -- properly at least. They’ve all smeared messy kisses against each other’s mouths when the joke calls for it but there’s rarely been actual, proper, intent behind them.
“Oh.” And it’s Luke’s voice that has them pulling apart, Ashton’s breath caught in the back of his throat, mouth tingling.
Calum looks like the world is about to end, eyes wide and his face strangely pale rather than flushed. Ashton wants to reach out and assure that, hey, it’s okay, but he’s not actually sure if that’s the case. With a swooping sensation, the dressing room tips around them and Ashton has to fight not to give into the feeling of vertigo.
Because he never really got an answer from Luke before -- Luke had giggled, frowned, kissed Ashton’s forehead and then disappeared for a shower that lasted so long, Ashton was forced to find his own room to shower in. They hadn’t had another chance to talk about it as they shuttled over to the venue -- Nickleback time, you know how it goes -- and then they were on stage, the exhilaration of belting out Youngblood to a crowd that already knows the words.
Calum hasn’t stepped away but he looks like he’s working up to apologising. Over his shoulder, the hubbub of their roving tour is starting to filter back in -- Karen, followed by Luke’s guitar tech, then that girl from the venue with the lip piercing that looks entirely too cool to be there to make sure they got their still and sparkling water -- but still Luke looms closer, his hand clenching in the damp shoulder of Calum’s shirt.
Ashton stares at it. Knows it’s damp because he’s just had his hands all over him. The room spins a little again and then his vision is entirely taken up by Luke’s face.
“Tomorrow,” Luke breathes against Ashton’s lips, licks easily over his mouth in that familiar way. Ashton pulls back, flicks his eyes over to where Calum is staring, staring, staring. “Tomorrow?”
And then he’s turning round, not waiting for an answer, smearing his mouth messily over Calum’s before any of them can really pull away. Ashton reaches out, palm against his other shoulder, feels the clammy overheat of his skin.
It normalises it a little, settles something fizzing in his gut at the thought of needing to work up to kissing him again. Ashton sees when Calum relaxes into it as well, the soft sound of him meeting Luke’s kiss properly and deeply, right there, right in front of his face.
*
“Is this some sort of delayed gratification?” Ashton finally breaks around lunchtime the next day and whispers, urgently, into Luke’s ear as they climb into the car again to zip across town to some radio station or other.
Calum is sitting opposite them in the van but has spent the entire morning oscillating between acting as if he’s going to a dentist appointment that evening and sending long, longing, glances between the pair of them.
They’re hungover again -- ending up in some bar until three in the morning -- and it’s built up a strange tension between all three of them, even though Ashton got to share a shower with Luke this morning.
(“It’ll save water!” Luke had cajoled. But it definitely did not save time.)
Calum huffs a sigh as he settles into at least forty minutes of traffic with Luke’s long legs tucked between Calum’s knees. He’s been teasing him all day, the toe of his boot pressed against Calum’s ankle, the way his fingertips keep creeping off his own thigh to press at Calum’s kneecap. Ashton blames him for wearing shorts, knows how this is probably worse for both of them -- the temptation to touch bare skin too much for Luke when he’s in this mood -- but it’s enjoyable too, watching the twist of Calum’s mouth as he decides how to respond.
Ashton had welcomed the lead in, maybe needed a night to sleep on it and let everyone figure out if they had any reservations but he regrets it now, wishing they had just acted on the impulse and adrenaline of last night.
Michael is the last in the car and they all shift again to accommodate him, the shifting of bags and jackets and stuff they’ve accumulated over the course of the day between the seats. There’s commotion -- the driver starting up, Michael complaining about how he’s so fucking hungover, Ashton hunting for the buckle of his seatbelt. It's the familiar shifting and sorting that Ashton is used to as they fit together in these tight spaces.
Luke’s knee falls against the side of his thigh and Ashton looks over to see how he’s been forced to sprawl out, Calum’s leg wedging between his knees instead and then he’s lifting his foot to perch on the edge of the seat between Luke’s thighs, toe of his Converse just below his fucking crotch.
Ashton feels the pull of arousal quick and hot and unexpected. It’s a rebuke, a calculated move, playful but with a hard edge if Luke wants it. It makes Ashton think that Calum might be up for more than just watching them fuck, more than just curious about their dynamic when Luke seeks out the strange comfort in letting Ashton take the lead, that he might be wanting to explore that side of him too.
Calum’s eyes flick over to meet Ashton’s -- seeking approval -- and Ashton tucks a smile into his collar, presses his knee back against Luke’s leg until it’s nearly trapping Calum’s foot between his legs. If either of them jerks their legs, Luke’s getting kicked in the balls -- just enough danger that it’s erotic -- and the threat of it weaves a final ribbon of anticipation between the three of them.
Game, match.
A smile breaks over Luke’s face and he looks tired in that pleasant way: well worn and happy. “A nice by-product,” Luke whispers back, as he melts back into the window.
*
“This is stupid,” Calum announces once they’re back at the hotel and he shoves himself into the lift after the two of them. “I’m not timetabling sex. Let’s just get this started --”
“Charming!” Luke crows but he’s laughing, hitting the door-close button to hurry them up to the third floor and where Luke’s room has been in the back of their minds all day.
It’s nearly funny -- the quiet that descends over them as they wait for the lift to gear into action. The clank of the weight, the motor and pulley system.
“You ever have a threesome?” Luke asks, cheekily, just to break the tension. Ashton snorts, the sound of it filling the enclosed space.
Calum’s mouth turns up and it’s nearly sexy, the way he’s leaning back against the mirrored wall nonchalantly. “Not with two guys.”
And Ashton knew that, had heard the debrief of it one morning when they all got back on the bus and Calum sat Ashton and Michael and Luke down and went into graphic detail. It was what they did way back then -- before Michael coupled up, before Ashton and Luke paired off, before Calum grew out of it like the rest of them.
“Wahey,” Luke crows, reaching out with a high-five. “Two girls!”
Calum laughs and when their hands meet, Luke curls his fingers into the grip so they’re just holding hands instead.
The traction whirrs over their head, a metallic clank as they pass the second floor without stopping. Under it all, Ashton can hear Calum breathing.
“You ever been fucked, Cal?” Ashton asks easily. He already knows the answer to this one too but just to be sure.
Calum looks up, eyes darting around the four corners of the lift before he meets Ashton’s gaze again. “No.”
Luke lets out a little sound and that’ll be something for another day, fighting over who gets to fuck him first.
The thought winds him, already knowing in his bones that this will likely happen again. That that is something him and Luke will be able to fight over. That they’re so intertwined that crossing this line will only bring them closer together.
The silence stretches on a touch too long, long enough for Calum to let the nerves bleed in and Ashton regrets it when Calum’s voice wavers: “Is that --” he looks away from Ashton and directs it to Luke instead. They’re still holding hands. --“what you want?”
The lift shudders to a stop and the door slides open, metal on metal, the old-school ring of the bell.
“Not the plan today,” Ashton says, watches as Calum’s shoulders rise and fall, the quirk of Luke’s mouth. Ashton likes to stick to a plan. It’s what propels them out of the lift and down the hallway, the three of them pressed together behind Luke as he fumbles with the lock.
He hustles them over the threshold and then he’s pressing Calum onto the bed, one knee on the mattress to lean over him, and meeting his mouth before they can lose their nerve.
“Fuck,” Luke’s voice from somwhere behind them, the door shutting, the click of the lock. Calum kisses him back, his hand coming up to press against Ashton’s cheek. It’s sweet, unexpected, makes Ashton sink down onto his elbow to selfishly deepen the kiss. “Can you believe we’re doing this?”
“Can you believe he’s still talking?” Ashton asks when he pulls away, his lips bumping against Calum’s nose. Calum huffs out a laugh, merely just a breath, and pulls him back down.
They end up just making out, Ashton getting lost in it. Calum spreads his body out across the mattress and Ashton finds himself following him, widening his knees between Calum’s legs until he’s bending up, enough to hook his knee over Ashton’s hip, one hand around his wrist and pressing it gently to the duvet. It brings them together, lets Calum rock up against him and Ashton can feel where Calum’s growing hard through his shorts, the firm intent behind each time he arches his hips up.
Ashton hasn’t kissed anyone new in a relatively long time and it’s stranger than he expected. Kissing Luke is like craving a familiar taste. Calum is somehow brand new and well-worn all at once.
Calum’s mouth is plusher somehow, wetter than Luke’s but in a good way. The soft way he kisses him back, the firm press of his fingertips into Ashton’s neck and the back of his skull. Calum’s wrists up by his ears and Ashton can smell the faint hint of cigarettes, the cologne that Calum wears where Luke usually smells of hairspray and something sweeter. Calum licks into his mouth, pulls him closer, down onto the broad expanse of his chest like he likes having someone on top of him.
“You always make her do all the work?” Ashton teases, teeth against the line of Calum’s jaw. Whilst he’d admitted that he’s never been fucked, Ashton also knows that he hasn’t been with a guy either. That definitely falls under news to share with the wider group and Ashton would remember, would probably try to imagine it.
“Never had any complaints,” Calum teases back, his hand twisting in the collar of Ashton’s t-shirt. He pulls at the material, gets his fingertips on his collarbones, over his Adam’s apple.
His fingers are so long, all over him, guiding him back to his mouth. Ashton can’t believe the wing span of his friends sometimes. He slides his hands down, cups them over Ashton’s pecs as if he’s expecting a pair of tits. The muscle memory of it makes them both laugh but then Calum arches up into Ashton’s touch when he reciprocates, thumbs brushing over his nipples and Ashton files that away for later.
“Hey,” Luke says, the mattress dipping, his voice close. “Thought this was all about me?”
Ashton pulls away, Calum’s mouth smearing down over his cheek as he starts to laugh again, Calum’s breath in his ear and it’s so fucking overwhelming already and they’ve only just started.
“You’re waiting,” Ashton murmurs, trying to regain some control.
Because that’s his role here. Usually. Usually, Luke is folding under him or waiting for some sort of direction, eager to give up the reins to Ashton to do what he wants with them. Calum’s a bit of an unknown entity, unsure if he’s directing him too or if Calum gets off in sharing the control.
“I wasn’t the one who was meant to be watching,” he whines, flopping down onto his back beside them. He’s already stripped off his trousers and Ashton can see the heft of his dick against his thigh through his underwear but he’s only halfway hard. It’s strangely nice to see him like that, curled beside them, his shoulder pressed against Calum’s bicep.
Calum pushes up onto his elbow and it forces Ashton to kneel up properly. He can feel the heat of Luke’s leg pressed against his thigh as he resettles his weight across Calum’s lap. “Is this part of it?” he asks, his face going soft the way it always does when he indulges whatever the fuck hairbrained stupidity Luke has come up with now. “Is the whinging the set up? So you get punished?”
Luke cackles, hair mussing across the duvet cover. He flops over, meeting Calum in a quick kiss. “You’re an idiot,” and then Ashton’s looking down at them kissing hard, Luke licking into Calum’s mouth messily.
It’s a nice angle, Ashton can see the way Luke turns into it, the cup of Calum’s hand around his jaw. They seem to arch into each other, the kiss quickly turning heated. Luke’s hand reaches across into Ashton’s lap, not forgotten about, as he lets Calum kiss him over and over and over again.
“Right,” Ashton says, voice dragging slightly as he watches them. “Come on. We’ll not do it if we get too distracted.”
“It’s nice though,” Luke complains, curling over onto his side and reaching for Calum again. “Calum’s a good kisser.”
Ashton snorts, pushes his fingers into the back of Luke’s hair and scratches over his scalp. “You’ll want this. We can’t do it on the bus.”
Luke shivers, jerking between them and then he’s rolling away, groaning with anticipation. “Please.”
“There’s no sex at all on the bus,” Calum reminds him. He’s still under him, his thigh pressing up where Ashton’s still hard. His mouth looks so red like this. Ashton grins, ducks down to kiss him instead of reminding him that they’ve all broken that rule before.
Luke disappears into the bathroom and it gives them a bit of breathing space, Calum rolling over across the bed. Ashton pulls the bag out of his suitcase. Luke’s left the bathroom door ajar and they can hear him splashing about in the shower.
“Is this okay?” Calum asks, quiet from the bed.
Ashton glances up and finds Calum watching him. As much as they’ve been teasing each other all day, they haven’t really had a chance to talk about this. “Yeah, man,” Ashton says, kneeling up beside the bed. It’s easy to answer him. Easy to find himself being honest. “As long as you’re okay.”
Calum lets out a breath. “Is it crazy that I am okay?” His face twists and he flops onto his back, hiding his face behind his forearm. Ashton can see where his face has gone pink, the flush down the side of his neck. He looks entirely too clothed for what they’re about to do. “Like, this feels very surreal.”
Ashton strips off his shirt and leans against the edge of the bed. The shower cuts off next door but Ashton feels like this is something that they should decide before Luke rejoins them. He doesn’t think they need to formally mark out boundaries, Calum just as much an extension of Ashton as Luke is, but he should probably make sure. “Does it feel good? Are you turned on?”
It’s maybe too blunt but Ashton decides there’s no point fucking about here. He leans over, nuzzles into Calum’s cheek. It’s easy to wrap his fingers around Calum’s wrist and pull his arm away so he can see his eyes, the way they’re big and wide. Calum lets out a groan, his eyes roving over Ashton’s face.
“I’m so fucking turned on,” Ashton decides to tell him, ducking down to kiss him. He smatters kisses up over his face, the corner of his mouth, his cheek bone, over the broad slope of Calum’s brow. “I wanna show you what we do. Luke’s gonna lose it. He looks so good, so--” can’t even begin to explain how good Luke looks when he’s desperate and moaning and whiney. It's intense in a strange way, something that can only be experienced. To know that you’re causing it, Ashton relishes the power of it. He has a distant need for someone else to reassure him that he’s right in thinking it.
Calum arches up, nose bumping along Ashton’s cheekbone. “I wanna see you.”
And that unlatches something inside Ashton, unaware how much he needed to hear that too. How much it changes the scope of what they’re about to do. Calum is here on his invitation but up until now, Ashton had been thinking about how he was acting as a facilitator of sorts, allowing Calum and Luke to finally get their hands on each other.
“And --” Calum murmurs against his mouth, rolling over onto his side to try and kiss him properly. Ashton is aware that he’s still on his knees, his hips pressed against the side of the mattress. --“that turns me on.”
“Right,” Luke announces from the doorway. “Stop your pillow talk and let's get this started --”
Despite their little rallying moment, Calum looks nervous when they all find themselves on their feet at the end of the bed. He groans when Luke sinks to his knees and Ashton has to agree, he does look a picture down there, pleasantly damp and pink from the shower.
Luke spreads his knees and his thighs look deliciously thick even under the towel. In another world, he’d be slightly intimidating as he starts to pull out supplies: lube, condoms, a palm sized pot of Tiger Balm, a loop of silk that is versatile as rope or blindfold (or fashion accessory), the fucking bubble bath they packed last minute, the little bag of clamps Ashton bought on a whim.
Ashton strips off his jeans then but he catches the hesitation in Calum’s movements as he starts to undress.
“Should we explain everything?” Ashton asks Calum, watching as he fiddles with the ties of his shorts. They’ll not get as far as the clamps today but maybe he should clarify the numbing cream is for after. “Would that make it better?”
“Cal,” Luke jokes, lifting the bottle of lube and shaking it at him. “Do you know what this is?”
Ashton kicks Luke’s hip gently. “Don’t be a dick. We’ve had a lot more time to work up to this --”
“Think he knows the rudiments of anal sex, Ash --”
“I’m fine,” Calum cuts through the bickering. He rolls his eyes, shoving his shorts and underwear down his thighs all at once. He’s flagged a bit. Ashton has seen Calum naked enough times and in enough compromising positions to know what he looks like half hard. “I’m here to watch you two get freaky. So --” Calum claps his hands, not shy about how he’s now the most naked one in the room. --“Get freaky.”
“Stop calling it that,” Luke laughs but he throws a satisfied smile over his shoulder at being proven right. It slides into something more anticipatory when Ashton gets down onto his knees beside him and pulls out the spreader bar.
“What the fuck is that?” Calum asks, dropping down onto the edge of the bed so he can look down at them.
“It’s adjustable!” Luke crows, still so fucking proud that they’ve bought this and managed to hide it in amongst their luggage so it doesn’t draw that much attention.
“Is it safe?”
“Of course it’s safe,” Luke murmurs, his voice dropping now that Ashton is extending it and locking it into place. “It’s not the same as the swing but it’s nice. We’re --” Luke has to pause to take a breath. --“experimenting.”
“So I heard,” Calum whispers back.
The tension in the room has changed acutely. Luke sinks back to sit on his feet, the gentle way he rotates his neck, his hands already coming down to his sides in preparation.
It’s a giving over of control without really saying out loud. They’ve become well versed in this type of communication, so attuned to each other that it’s second nature. Ashton swallows, feels the satisfaction in bossing him about already.
“Ankles or wrists?” Ashton asks.
Luke sucks in a breath, his head cocking to the side. His eyes flutter closed but he doesn’t answer. Ashton feels the twist of his gut, breath short, as he turns to look at Calum.
“Ankles or wrists?” Ashton asks him instead.
Calum’s jaw drops open, an angry red flush creeping down his throat. The change is nearly shocking and it shakes him, the awareness that he might have to look after both of them. That this is how he slots into this arrangement when there’s three of them.
“Ankles or wrists?” he asks again, more gently, keeping his eyes on the way Calum seems to be contemplating this seriously, his gaze dragging between Luke on the floor and the bar in Ashton’s grip.
“Both?” he asks tentatively. “Can you do both?”
“Fuck,” Luke mewls, breath catching audibly in his chest. He bends forward slightly, like the kick in his dick was nearly painful.
Warmth spreads down through Ashton’s spine. They can do both. Calum making a decision doesn’t jar with him, in fact, Ashton welcomes it like he’s got a partner in crime that still trusts him to take the lead.
It takes a bit of arranging, Luke blinking up at him as he spreads his legs, his knees pushed apart. The towel unravels and Ashton pulls it away, glancing down to see the way that he’s nearly hard by way of finally starting. Ashton puts the bar between his feet, nudging him into position and pulling the cuffs around his ankles. Luke has massive feet and it’s always nice to see them restrained, the cuffs fitting around him snuggly. He drags his thumb over the arch of his foot just to see him shiver.
“You okay?” Ashton checks in, tightening the buckle around the knobbly bit of Luke’s ankle. His feet are curled under him, his toes tensing every time that Ashton’s hands come into contact with his skin.
“Uh huh,” Luke moans. Calum’s watching him from the edge of the bed, his eyes wide, like he can’t believe that Ashton’s followed his direction and they’re actually using the equipment they brought with them.
His wrists are a bit more of a challenge. Ashton takes his time looping the silk scarf around Luke’s left wrist and then the bar beside his left ankle. Then he uses nearly the full length of the scarf to tie his right hand down on the opposite side. It’s not as fancy as some of his rope work but it keeps Luke’s wrists secured, his arms restricted down by his ankles. It’s not as restrained as if he had tied them behind his back but it still pulls his shoulders back, forces Luke until he’s slightly arched, weight balanced across his spread legs.
He’s pretty like this - broad shoulders tucked back, the full expanse of his chest, the vulnerable crest of his collarbone. His chest hair is finally growing in and he looks good, the quick pace of his breathing, the waver of it in his belly as he’s pulled taut rather than slumping down.
“Will -” Luke asks, his fingers curling into a fist in Ashton’s grip where he’s still holding his hand.“Will you be able to fuck me like this?”
Ashton glances down. The angle might be awkward, the bar stopping Ashton getting close enough on his knees but he thinks he might be able to make it work. He lifts his free hand to smooth down the side of Luke’s hip, working his hand slowly across his arse cheek.
“Did you prep yourself in there?” Ashton asks, voice quiet, when he slips his fingers up the crease of Luke’s ass and finds it not only clean but slippery. He can’t really see from this angle but he can feel it. “How did you have the time?”
Luke shudders, head tipping forward onto the bed beside Calum’s knee. His back is a continuous line, like a bridge, strong and sturdy. “You were distracted.”
Ashton glances up, grins at the look in Calum’s eye. He has his hand loosely cupped around his dick, fully hard just watching the set up. He tugs his hand around the base, thumb working against himself to take the edge off. It looks good like that, encircled by his big hand and Ashton wistfully wonders what he tastes like.
But Luke is his priority now.
“Good boy,” Ashton murmurs and then tugs at the scarf playfully to test the tension. The red of it makes Luke’s skin look more tanned, sunkissed from being in Europe and out of the house and being back on stage.
Luke lets out a quiet sound as Ashton gets to his feet, his hand skimming over his shoulder.
“What now?” Calum asks, voice rough but quiet, as if he doesn’t want to interrupt too much.
“Can I?” Luke asks, slightly nonsensically into the side of Calum’s knee. Ashton takes the opportunity to kick off the rest of his clothes and then perches onto the end of the bed beside Calum, thighs pressed together. “And then you’ll fuck me?”
“Go for it,” Ashton says, reaching out to guide Luke’s head into his lap and with a small groan, Luke goes easily, mouth opening around the head of Ashton’s cock.
This bit is easy. This bit is familiar and something they’ve done a million times by this point. What’s new is the quiet exhale of Calum’s breath, the press of his leg hotly against him from hip to knee, the fidgety way he shifts to help Luke fit into the space in front of them.
With his hands restrained, Luke can’t quite bend over properly, can’t suck Ashton very deep. It makes Luke squirm, the obvious frustration that’s working into his brow. He licks around the head of Ashton’s cock, whines when it falls out of his mouth. His elbows bend and he grunts, the bar and his attached feet jerking up behind him. The way he’s kneeling, restrained and held back by himself, makes him wobble on his knees.
It’s more precarious than Ashton had originally planned, Luke panting hard as he tries to reclaim his centre of gravity. He’s stretched out but it’s the unsteadiness that is the bigger factor, requiring him to think an extra step before he moves. He’s not sure if it’ll work the same, if Luke will get out of his head as much.
“Come on now,” Ashton chastises, softly, testing how far he can push him. “Don’t think you’re trying hard enough, there, Luke.”
Luke grunts, tips himself forward. It brings him up onto his knees more so he can angle closer but it’s unsteady with the way he has to balance on his kneecaps.
“Fuck,” he huffs, his eyes rolling slightly as he falls back against the floor again. The bar makes a noise, the cuffs jangling quietly against the carpet. It’s a reminder how he’s restrained, the mechanics of it. “Ashton, fuck-- please--”
“Christ,” Calum murmurs. “Is he always like this? So quickly?”
“It’s been a while,” Ashton concedes. He reaches down to steady his dick so Luke can suck it into his mouth again. After a few messy pulls, Ashton eases him off, two fingers at the edge of his jaw. “Now, Calum.”
Calum inhales sharply and from the corner of his eye, Ashton can see the way he has to squeeze around the base of his dick roughly. Luke pulls back, already panting slightly, swivels as well as he can to lean over their knees.
“Here,” Calum says softly, directing the head of his cock towards Luke’s mouth. He’s holding it unnaturally upright with his thumb at the base -- Ashton bites down on the laugh, Calum eagerly making it easier where Ashton is trying to stretch the boundaries of Luke’s restraints -- but it means he can smear the head of it over Luke’s mouth, wet and shiny with precome.
Luke finally sucks him down and Calum’s groan is nearly guttural. Ashton can empathise. It’s strange seeing it from this angle, looking down at Luke sucking cock but not feeling it, having it be someone else. Ashton knows that Luke is good at giving head but it’s the first time that he’s considered someone -- Calum of all fucking people -- good at receiving it.
Calum is longer than he is and he keeps his fist around the base, his thumb rubbing again at the space where Luke can’t reach. Luke groans, his mouth stretched open. Calum’s free hand flexes like he’s unsure where to put it with so many limbs in such a tight space.
“Here,” Ashton directs, pushing his fingers into Luke’s hair and scratching over his scalp. “He likes this.”
And then Calum’s sinking his free hand into the other side of Luke’s hair and both of them, their massive hands overlapping on the hot heat of his skull. Ashton scratches over Luke’s scalp, the only warning before he’s pushing him down further on Calum’s cock.
“Fuck,” Calum whines and then Luke’s choking, his head bobbing up quickly.
“Sorry,” Luke slurs, pulling off. He looks slightly dazed but sheepish, his head cradled in both of their hands. “Shit gag reflex,” he smiles coyly up at Calum. It’s ruined by how wet his bottom lip and chin are. “You know that.”
Calum just groans and Ashton’s worried they’ve broken him already when Luke smiles, pivots again, and mouths over Ashton’s cock instead. He moans, like they taste different, now that’s he’s had them both.
“Fuck,” Calum swears again, his fingers curling in Luke’s hair. He curls over slightly, as if he can still feel the pull of Luke’s mouth by leaning into Ashton’s side.
Luke takes him deeper this time and it’s hard not to flex his hips and fuck into his mouth. Luke’s chin is a mess of spit and Ashton rubs his thumb through it, feels where his lips are stretched around the width of his dick. The angle is all wrong but he wonders, in flashes, if Luke could fit them both in his mouth at the same time, if he could take them both together. What it would feel like, the silky head of Calum’s dick pressed tight against his own and in the hot, wet of Luke’s mouth.
It would need to be a day without restraints, Ashton thinks deliriously, an invitation for Calum to join them when they’re just fucking normally. It would mean proper plans, agreements, escape routes.
Luke sinks low and Ashton can feel the nudge of the back of his throat, hot and fleshy and resistant. They’d never fucking fit. Ashton has to know.
“Fuck you!” Luke yelps, pulling off roughly. He’s laughing though, breathless and tight. There’s a swoop of panic, a loss of control, not knowing what’s happening for a split second.
Calum grins down at him, fingers flexing again against Luke’s skull. He must’ve pushed him down when Ashton was distracted. “Knowing and seeing your shit gag reflex are two different things.”
Luke hums, gaze flitting between them. “You taste so good.”
“Aw fuck,” Calum groans, leaning back on the bed on his elbow. His hand lands on Ashton’s thigh and with a jolt, Ashton remembers that he can touch him too. “Keep saying shit like that and I’ll come.”
Ashton slides his hand over Calum’s knee, up the soft inside of his thigh. He nudges at his balls, feeling the weight of him against his palm, before moving to loosely jack him off. Calum’s cock is something to behold, red and wet, the soft shift of skin under Ashton’s palm. He hasn’t touched him like this before, even in the heady days of sharing beds in London.
Calum makes a soft noise, his hips flexing up off the bed. He’s so responsive, Ashton sort of loves it. Calum gives off the effortless vibe of being in a constant state of unbothered. It’s gratifying to see him get worked up like this.
“That’s the goal,” Luke murmurs, ducking in to nose after Ashton’s hand. Ashton watches as he nuzzles in, the way he kitten licks around Ashton’s fingers and gets them all wet. Calum wriggles a bit under their joint ministrations. “See who comes first.”
“No,” Ashton interrupts, hooking his finger quickly into Luke’s mouth. He grunts but follows him easily, knees splaying as he tries not to lose balance at the sudden change of direction. Ashton feels a swoop of arousal at how easy he is to manoeuvre like this. He could push him down, could rearrange him until his face is pressed into the bed as he fucks into his arse, could drag him back onto his cock and fuck his throat. Remind them both who is in charge here. The graze of Luke’s teeth helps take the edge off slightly. “No games. You’re not gonna come until I let you.”
“Fuck,” Luke mumbles around his fingers. Ashton presses them against his tongue just to fuck with him. It makes the next sentence come out garbled but there’s no mistaking it: “You have to fuck me then. Ash, please. I need you to --”
Calum works his hips up again, a groan punched out of him. “Could listen to you beg all day.”
Ashton slides down on to the floor behind Luke, smearing the wet of his fingers over the corner of his jaw. Luke’s panting now, his shoulders heaving and from this angle, Ashton can see the full effect of the restraints.
Luke’s fingers are twisted in the hold, knuckles white as he flexes them in and out tightly. The scarf is pulled as taut as it will go, the material twisted around the bar. His feet jerk with every push of his knees and it’s nearly rhythmic, the way he’s bobbing up and down to keep his balance, to shift his weight.
When Luke leans into Calum’s lap again, his feet come off the ground, toes pushing against the carpet to get any leverage at all. It’s nearly mindless, a completely different experience from being bound by the swing at home.
Ashton drags his fingers down the sole of his feet and Luke seizes, his whole body jerking. He falls forward, face pressed into Calum’s stomach and Ashton has to grip around his calves to keep him steady.
“Tickles?” Calum’s asking, his hands stroking through Luke’s hair and down over the exposed arch of his neck. Ashton can see the shiver roll down Luke’s taut back, the ripple of it over his spine as Calum grips lightly at his throat, at his shoulders.
Ashton ducks in, presses his teeth to the roll of his armpit, just where his shoulder blade is pulled back slightly. He smells good here -- skin and shower gel and the warm scent of fresh sweat. His skin has gone pinker, damp and hot.
“Numb,” Luke says, shakily. “Feels like my legs aren’t attached to me anymore. Just something there to hold me down.”
“And does that feel good?” Calum asks, caught down low and dragging around the curiosity in his voice.
“So good. ‘T’s so good.”
It’s a bit bizarre listening to them speak, their voices nearly private. It’s nice too -- Ashton either in a mood to work or a mood to talk and rarely able to do both when they do this.
“Wish I could get my hands on you,” Luke rumbles, his voice lost into the crease of Calum’s thigh. “Makes it harder but that’s good too.”
Ashton’s not really sure what he’s doing but Calum moans softly, grinds slowly up against his face. He has Luke’s head cradled in both hands, handfuls and handfuls of hair, pushing it out of his face and eyes.
He’s not looking at Ashton but it’s okay, it gives him a moment to gather himself, to find lube, to work out the logistics of fucking Luke despite the spreader bar between his ankles.
“Fingers,” Ashton says in warning, sweeping a palm up Luke’s side as he hooks two fingers into Luke’s rim and tugs gently.
He’s loose from whatever he’s managed to do in the shower but Ashton still takes his time, stretching him out as much as he can with the tight angle and not being able to see properly. Uses the bump of his knuckles, twists using feel alone. Luke’s legs are stretched out wide though, pulling him open, his ass spread around his wrist. He can feel the weight of Luke’s dick hanging between his legs, heavy and hard and at the mercy of gravity. Ashton drags his palm down over the taper of his waist, digs his thumb into where sweat has gathered in the dimple of his back.
“You’re doing so good,” Calum’s murmuring, his hands smoothing over his face. Then the sloppy sound of Luke sucking, his throat working noisily. “That’s it. That’s it, Luke.”
Three fingers, a tight squeeze. He rubs the pads of his fingers up against the inside of him and waits until Luke jerks forward, the call and response of Ashton finding his prostate.
“There,” Calum says, voice slurring. His eyes flick up to meet Ashton’s and it’s so fucking hot, too hot, both of them only separated by the fact that it’s Luke spread between them. Ashton presses against Luke’s prostate again, fingers slippy with lube, Calum’s knuckles right in his hair and pulling him down. Luke gags again but he doesn’t pull off, a low groan rumbling through him. “There you go.”
Ashton considers just milking it out of him with his fingers, considers slipping in a fourth, working up to all five. But his wrist hurts from the awkward angle and he thinks it might be a step too far with Calum here, for all of them, something too new for Luke with an audience, maybe.
He pulls his fingers out, listening to Luke’s answering whine, muffled past Calum’s cock in his mouth.
“Up on your knees,” Ashton tells him, lubed fingers smearing over Luke’s hips as he moves him into a better position.
Luke has to bend against the restraints properly then, the scarf pulling taut under Ashton as he struggles to remain upright and in Calum’s lap at the same time. It pulls at his shoulders, the tense line of Luke’s triceps. His fingers clench in the tail of the silk scarf for something to hold on to but it doesn’t unravel.
“Fuck,” Calum babbles. He’s properly red now, eyes a bit wild with it. “I’m gonna come. You should see his face.”
Jealousy spikes through him, the hot feeling of not being able to see Luke’s face at the same time as seeing his body stretched out like this for him.
“Hold on,” Ashton says, kneeling in underneath him. It’s a tight squeeze, angle awkward, half worried that if Luke bucks up against him the bar will smash into Ashton’s shins and fucking break his leg but he manages to snub the wet head of his dick against Luke’s rim. “Gonna fuck you now, Luke.”
It’s perfunctory, the warning. Luke’s moaning continuously in Calum’s lap, pulling off his cock to suck just around the head, letting Calum move his head around where he wants him.
“Fuck me,” he groans. “Both of you.”
“Your throat,” Calum murmurs but he’s already bucking up into him.
Ashton pushes in, fucks into him shallowly. The angle is wrong but Luke feels impossibly tight, clenching around him and sucking him in. He cries out, his body jerking against the cuffs and Ashton moulds himself to his back, feels like that’s the safest way to fuck deeper and keep him steady at the same time, cheek to his shoulder and an arm around his waist.
It means he can hear Calum fuck into his mouth, the thick wetness of it close to his ear. Can see the way Calum’s stomach muscles flex, the cut of his hips. He finds himself grinding into Luke with a surreal intensity, staring at the hair tapering down below Calum’s navel, Luke’s nose pressed against it. He pushes his brow into Luke’s throat, can feel where he’s struggling to swallow around Calum.
It’s too much.
Ashton pulls back, fucking into him wildly. The bar presses harshly into the bottom of his shin. It jolts the three of them together, clear evidence that they’re connected, that Calum is actually there, that they're really doing this.
“Okay,” Calum says loudly, at odds with how quiet they had been twisted together. “Now. Can’t -- Gonna --”
He pulls at Luke’s head so he won’t choke him and comes, Luke’s mouth sliding off him with a loud, clutching gasp. Calum’s still moaning and it sends a ripple of heat through Ashton, to know that he’s a shouter.
“Fuck,” Luke cries, air dragging loudly in and out of his mouth. “I-- fuck --”
Ashton slows down, reaches up with his free hand to pull Luke’s head around. He looks absolutely fucked out, Calum’s come smeared down the mess of his jaw, wet across his cheeks and eyes. His eyes flutter closed, mouth working wordlessly around a silent cry.
“Don’t stop,” he moans before Ashton can ask if he’s okay. “Back, Ash. My back.”
Ashton straightens up and Luke moans again, his shoulders flexing. Calum looks half mad, his hands coming back to cradle Luke’s face and he ducks down, stomach rolling to get at him and kiss him. It’s sloppy, too wet, Luke unable to properly coordinate himself. And then Calum’s suddenly bending over Luke’s shoulder to smash their mouths together.
He tastes of come, smearing it over Ashton’s mouth. It takes a moment to register, how familiar-unfamiliar it is, how it’s Calum’s. How it’s been in Luke’s mouth and then Calum’s and now Ashton’s. Licked out and presented to him as if he deserves a taste too. His hand scrabbles at Calum’s on his face, clutches him closer for a wild moment. It feels like Luke is squeezed between them, like Ashton could fuck right through him and get to Calum if he really tried hard enough.
It’s so fucking messy. Luke and Ashton aren’t usually like this and it’s thrilling, to nearly play in it. Confronting to have Calum instigate something new. Calum smears his hand over Luke’s face again, mixing the spit and tears and come altogether across the red of his cheeks.
Calum collapses back onto the mattress, mouth shiny. His legs fall open and Luke falls against him, burying his face into his hip. Calum’s hands stroke through his hair, down over his face, rubbing the wet up into his hairline.
They look perfect together. Ashton chokes on the sudden urge to come, Luke clenching around him as he takestakestakes it. How he’s had both of them, been fucked by both of them and is still so good between them at taking it.
He pulls out, maybe a bit too roughly, and comes across Luke’s back. Stares at the bend of his body as Luke tries to relax in the restraints, trying to find some way to contort his body so he can be fucked properly.
“You’re okay,” Calum’s murmuring again when Ashton’s ears stop ringing. It’s aimed at Luke but he’s staring at Ashton, eyes tracking his movements as he pulls back, a hand snaking round Luke’s waist. “You’re gonna come now, aren’t you? It’s your turn. You’ve been so, so good.”
Ashton barely touches him, his hand sticky with half-dried lube as he tugs Luke off. He comes all over the valance sheet and carpet but Ashton can’t bring himself to care yet. In some distant part of his brain he regrets not tugging Luke upright so it spattered over Calum’s skin instead, instinctually knowing that he’d like it.
Ashton’s head spins, the blurring of another person's wants and likes and turn ons making it impossible to focus on just the Luke of it all. Luke’s still shuddering through it, sobbing with it. And this is the bit that makes Ashton’s head swim. The worry they’ve gone too far, the responsibility of getting Luke out of the restraints as quickly and as safely as possible.
He unravels the knots of the scarf, rubbing his hands gently over Luke’s biceps. He’s like a dead weight, arms falling forward as he slumps properly into Calum’s lap between his spread thighs. Calum steadies him, pets over his shoulders as they hang by his sides.
“Two minutes,” Ashton reassures him and it’s easier like this, handy to have a third person to gather Luke up and smatter kisses across his face. Except, Calum’s starting to look a bit freaked because Luke’s still crying a bit. “It’s alright.” Ashton finds his voice, reassures them both. Despite how it all played out -- finding his own voice and making his own decisions -- he might need some looking after still.
He unbuckles the cuffs, helps Luke pull his knees and feet together. He groans softly and Ashton knows that the feeling of being bent over for so long, of being on the floor on his knees for so long, is slowly coming back to him.
“Okay,” Ashton says, smoothing his hands up over Luke’s legs. His come is dripping over the curve of his arse but he leaves it, figures it’s a lost cause. “Five minutes and then shower.”
“Is this alright?” Calum asks as the three of them get to the pillows, Ashton and Calum working in tandem to body Luke up the bed. Ashton feels fucked, his knees sore, his heart sore with how good it was. He can hear how Calum’s head is already starting to whirr and overthink.
There’s a strange rush in having it over him, having it work out well and all to plan. Having Luke like literal putty against his front and then Calum beyond that. Luke’s pressed tight between them, his face against Calum’s throat. He’s breathing noisily and now that they’re in the comedown, Ashton spares a thought for his voice but he’s smiling, eyes fluttering open and shut.
“He’s a clingy fuck after,” Ashton dodges the bigger question and then leans over, pulling Calum into a tight kiss.
It’s more than alright. It’s maybe better but Ashton isn’t sure how to tell him that yet. If Calum wants to hear it. Needs to check with Luke, maybe, before he goes declaring how much he liked having the both of them, together.
Calum kisses him back, like they didn’t get to touch enough, and maybe they didn’t, Ashton licking messily into his mouth. He needs a glass of water, he needs a cigarette and a shower and three days off to sleep in amongst them all but they’re back on the bus tomorrow and it’s on to the next thing.
Luke’s hand paws at Ashton’s chest and then he’s folding into them, his mouth smearing against Ashton’s cheekbone. He’s still a fucking mess but he manages to squeeze in, mouth slotting against Calum’s when Ashton pulls away. Ashton pretends that he’s salty-sexy and not salty-gross, just for the moment.
“Come back,” Luke murmurs. “I wanna kiss you two freaks.”
Calum laughs against his mouth, slow and sated and perfect, and somehow the three of them work their mouths together until there’s no more room for panic or insecurity.
Not yet.